XII: Niceties and Trials

Feyd did all but ensure we were together constantly. He pulled me to meetings – which was typical – as well as his training – unusual.

Our fingers interlocked as he led the way through the castle. We were demanded a grand entrance to the Great Hall for a meal. Well, he was. My presence did not matter.

Feyd made it required that I attend.

He, however, hated that we had to be separated to prepare for the festivities. He must have rushed his staff with a whip because I was not halfway prepared when he helped himself to my chambers, lounged against the settee, and waited for Vishti to finish.

We made a dramatic entrance to the Great Hall. It coupled with the dramatic way Feyd took his seat, sure to have me sat as a crown on his lap. I was draped on his side of the dais with a long train of bunched fabric, elegant and ostentatious, wrapped around the stairs up to his throne seat like a coiling snake. It was over the top – seeing as I was no Baroness. The weight of dress train made the look a hassle. Especially when I had to drag it around as I walked.

Nobles had to be dined and flattered, apparently. Feyd had to speak with the rich families of his house and inner circle. Even some upper class Arrakis people were in attendance.

They congregated in small circles, none seated for formal dining. The Great Hall was their dance floor of cunning schemes, backhanded flattery and gluttony.

The Harkonnen favorite of deep burgundy wine was poured into all their glasses. It was rich and heavy. I disliked it. Not because of the flavor. But because, it stained lips and mouths with its color. Like they drank blood.

"Lady Mintha."

Their smile, all blood stained and menacing, as they cooed over me.

They'd slurp my lifewater if they could.

Feyd left me to fend for myself. He grinned and joked with the rest of his inner circle. I referred to them as his harem on occasion; men he enjoyed violent delights with. Even if it was not sexual in theory, it felt like a piece of him that I did not like.

The monster.

I traipsed around the Great Hall as if I was a full born noble woman. It went against all my instincts, but I could fake it.

Especially thanks to the wine in my glass.

At times I wrapped the excessive long train around my forearm so that I could actually walk a distance without impeding everyone.

I circled around. Feyd said I had to greet most everyone once. It was my assigned duty that he 'entrusted' me to see through. He did not specify how I did so. My first few stops were people I knew well from my time in the Baron's castle. I'd hoped that they would not use the title Feyd bestowed to me. I'd hoped it would be an insult to their station.

I was made - not born.

The level which these people would stoop to keep Feyd happy was pathetic. Even by my standards.

None said a word of my newly elevated rank that superseded their own. There was a time where few would acknowledge me by more than a glance in the Baron's castle. I was rarely spoken to by the elite of the nobility back then. Now their smiles churned my insides a new shade of sour.

I almost vomited. The flattery of their tongue was a bold face lie. They pandered to what they thought they knew about me, as if to win a spot in my favor.

As if it mattered.

Still. The presence of such two-faced monsters sickened me. I was ready to abandon my status as lady and place myself in the sandy dungeons in the depths of the castle to install myself back as a prisoner of war.

Feyd looked the part of regal and casual. He laughed over his drink with some men who were the sons of old men in Feyd's advisor circle. The bloody stained mouths smiled. A monstrous reminder of what awaited me if Arrakis failed.

If Feyd failed.

So, I bunched my dress in one arm, stole a full swig of wine from my glass, and approached the Harkonnen nobles with whom I had to schmooze.

"You look deadly, my lady," Evgeniya Kiseleva marveled.

Her dress was white leather. It was simple. Far too simple for a noble woman. It was so pale that it matched the complexion of her own skin. I double looked when I first saw her. I'd thought she was naked!

She was an older woman that preferred the Baron's company to Feyd, but she never missed the chance to keep close with the family.

"The slaves tend to you well here." She cooed.

Her hand ran through my hair without invitation.

My jaw tensed. "Yes. I am well cared for."

"I saw your dance the other night." She quirked the muscles in her forehead. "It was like a dance of the natives. Like the wild heathens really came from the dunes." She and her husband - big toothed and bigger mouthed - chuckled amongst themselves. Red stained lips grinned. "Did na-Baron send for prisoners to teach it to you? I can imagine his tactics to beat it out of them."

Ha, ha, ha.

Their laughs fell to my deadened face. I did not make effort to laugh or smile, though Feyd might have expected me to.

My hair was styled with beads again. Vishti entwined them in long beautiful strands of hair that they took time to oil and style. The beads were from local artisans. They were bought specifically for this night, this dress, all under Vishti's vision.

I did not force any to share in their culture. They enveloped me inside theirs.

"I think Mintha might have helped him. Ah. You've got it in you. Don't you?" Her husband joked. His fingers reached over to pinch my arm.

"She'd have to, to keep na-Baron's interest."

My stomach soured. I was racked with horrible indecision whether to let it spew from my mouth to remove me from these horrible people or to move onto other prospects possibly just as foul.

I'd just started to move to the other side of the room when a couple of men caught my eye. They were well dressed. Very well dressed. They were from Arrakis. Their tanned skin and hair were dead giveaways.

The Harkonnens seemed to stick to their own circles, ignoring the local nobles. None of the horrid nobles had tainted the men yet. There was too much life left in their eyes.

It lit with fire when they caught notice of my approach. The two boasted their stances higher.

"Good eve, gentlemen." I greeted.

"Ahlan wa sahlan," one said.

One was rather young in the face. I'd venture to young thirties. He had a neatly trimmed beard in rich black hair. His eyes were almond shaped, bright, and had an expressive mouth. It smiled with ease at me.

The other man was older, forties perhaps. Still as handsome as the first with a similar beard, only longer and thicker, with an equally flattering smile that helped draw one from my own lips.

"How have you come to be invited to this party?" I asked.

The men looked at one another before they answered.

"Our names are Faheem. Harun and Nabil."

The younger was Harun. The elder - brother? - was Nabil.

I greeted them with a short bow of my head. "I am Mintha. Lady Mintha." I slipped. I'd not wanted to repeat the title, but if word went around of two men saying my name without it, who knew what Feyd would do.

They offered wine glasses. Even the wine in their own hands. I sputtered in surprise but convinced them I was sated.

In truth, it was shocking to witness two men offer their own sustenance to please me. Feyd would only offer for more to be brought not given of his own glass.

"My brother and I, we help na-Baron with the spice."

I quirked my brow. "Really? You work in the harvesters?"

"He means we helped find workers," Nabil corrected.

"You must possess magic. There are not many upsides to the job, I imagine."

"We have influence in the community. And the na-Baron's people struggle with the heat. The sand. they do not like." Harun continued. "We tell our people to go into the desert. The heat and sand are a part of our blood here. It does not bother. They make the money. They pay very nice here."

Very nice is not what I saw when I stepped outside.

Nabil looked at the hesitation on my face. "The desert does not give much in luxury."

Harun followed his brother's thought. "We must spend money to have lives of full bellies and thirst quenched. We do not expend luxuries. Commonalities are all we buy. We only wish for comfort, not hardship."

"I understand." How could I not?

They were very polite men. There was not anger in the silence. Just awkward tension. My line of questioning had revealed too serious topic to be thoroughly given justice at a dinner party of Harkonnen design. These places were meant for much debauchery.

"The night is not for work talk, is it?" I smiled.

They readily agreed. We moved onto more pleasant topics.

It was nice to enjoy it while it lasted.

I wondered if these men knew what to expect from a gathering of these monsters. What amused them all would curl a human's stomach in half.

"We both saw your blessing," Harun said with a face that did not read disappointment. "Very nice. Very good skill."

"Thank you. I hoped it was what it was meant to look like. I am not a talented dancer."

"It does not take skill," Nabil assured me. "Only heart."

My lips bit back another smile. How many was I going to give here to these two men? My muscles were so lax that the actual struggle wavered in my cheeks if I held a smile too long.

"You looked talented to me."

Harun's eyes crinkled as he smiled.

They were incredibly easy to talk to. I enjoyed their smiles and laughs. We lost track of time in each other's company. The older brother was kind. He did not speak long, but what he said was to the point. I knew to observe him as the contemplative one.

Harun was a skilled storyteller. He told me a few, since I was new to the planet. Stories of their childhood and old legends.

His face animated with the motion of his words. I enjoyed the sight.

How human, full of life and emotion.

"Your scare earlier this day," Harun commented. "We were glad to see you returned. The city is home to many from open lands where things are settled differently."

We all spoke over wine glasses in a corner away from the main cackling of the nobility.

"Yes. Well, it was a misunderstanding. I was not missing."

Nabil leaned close. "Worse things have happened to uglier."

"My brother speaks truth. It is a relief you are untouched. You are far too pretty to be lost to the sands."

Comforting sentiment, I supposed that was what it was meant to be. Rather than a menacing statement.

"Are unexplained deaths common?"

"The desert is deadly. It holds promise, yes, but the death is true. We have many who are lost to the elements. Our own baby brother was claimed by it."

There were times when I riddled out little secrets about the brothers: I knew they were nobles in Arrakis. They had influence in their community because they had wealth. They'd made it big because they knew how to repair all the equipment that eroded from the sands and sun.

I questioned whether they were complicit in the extermination of the Fremen or just making amends with what life handed them.

Still, I recognized their worth.

Feyd needed these men very badly for operations in the city to be successful.

Also. They were powerful in their own sense.

It did not detract from the joy I felt in their presence. I let them schmooze and toast to me, so long as I kept my control about me. The wine slowed through my lips to ensure that.

"My lady." Feyd appeared at my side. His hand slid around my back to cup my waist. "Whom have we found that keeps you so occupied?"

The brothers restrained their faces back to a formal, more stoic expression. They'd read the na-Baron well. I see his reputation preceded him.

Harun opened his mouth, but I was quicker to control the situation before ideas entered Feyd's head that would not progress the night.

"This is Harun and Nabil Faheem. They are allies to you here on Arrakis, na-Baron. Their word is what sent you the local workers."

Feyd took a longer moment to absorb the words.

"Yes. Yes, na-Baron. We gave the support to help you with the spice," Harun explained.

"They've told me how much they enjoy the party, too. Glossu never threw parties this grand, did he?" I looked to Nabil.

"No. None," he answered.

Feyd lifted his gaze to the mere mortal men in his gaze. They did not compare to his monstrous size.

The man did greet the brothers with a semblance of manners. He was not cold and blunt as he usually was. There was the fact that he would not let go of me to save my life. His hands held me close, held my hand or grasped my waist. I could not untangle myself.

He spoke about his struggles with spice harvest. Again, mention of Muad'dib was brought up.

"The religious. They still think of the Lisan-al-Gaib. The hope of the Atredies boy lifted their spirits," Harun said. "The work. Is hard. They make it harder in their despair."

"Lisan-al-Gaib? What is that?" I asked.

Again, there was mention of Atredies.

"The voice from the outer world," Nibal translated.

"Before na-Baron came to Arrakis, the Atredies boy and mother signaled the freedom of the planet was coming. For some they believed life would change."

I felt so dumb asking questions that everyone else knew the answers to. But it was an impossibility to escape if it kept being brought up. "What did they think would happen? With this Lisan-al-Gaib."

"Arrakis would become a green paradise."

Green paradise. the entire place was a ball of dust and dune.

"They fail to see the opportunity. Spice welcomes much riches. Fremen do not see what it good for all. Just keep to their old ways."

Feyd tensed his hand against my hip. "My lady does not tire, but we must go. Excuse us."

He did not forget to take me with him as we fled.

And he did not release me either. Even in more conversation, I was his tag along. I was ever thankful when it came time to actually eat. My skin was flushed from his touch. I needed distance to reclaim my cold shell.

We ate a lavish meal. I overate. The wine convinced me it was worth it. It helped keep my mouth busy, so I did not say something idiotic or ask something even more stupid.

The brothers happened to be seated right across from us. We did not get to speak much. Nobles entertained them.

There was a time where Harun caught my eye. He lifted his glass toward me. I swallowed back a grin, grabbed my own glass, and raised it back at him.

Feyd kept his hand against my thigh. He ran the edge of his thumbnail along the surface of the skirts of my dress. There was no slit for easy access. I watched him debate over cutting one.

"Na-Baron." The hum of conversation was so loud. I was able to speak under it so that only he might hear me. "You seem restless."

"I'm bored," he admitted. "These events are so boring without some sport. Sergeant!"

His voice carried through the Great Hall. My heart sputtered at the volume.

It stopped the murmurs of conversation to focus on his disturbance.

The soldier approached. Three thick bands of silver shimmered against his chest plate.

"Na-Baron." The sergeant dropped to one knee.

"The prisoners in the dungeons. Present them to me."

Trial by combat.

The sergeant hustled off to round up those to meet their Harkonnen justice. Feyd pulled my legs into his lap to stroke for all to see. The eyes of the noble grew in their heads to see the gentle touch he used upon me.

The Faheem brothers did not react to the change of mood throughout the rest. Their faces trained to passive curiosity.

I sipped more of my wine. Alcohol willing, I'd forget the night by morning.

"You. Faheem." Feyd tilted his chin at the men across from him. "This will be a real treat. I am told the people of Arrakis do something similar. A duel settles your matters as well, does it not?"

Huran licked his lips. "Those are the ways of the desert Fremen. We have evolved away from violent traditions."

Hands moved the course of my long skirts. He petted me like a prized possession.

The two brothers watched his motions with their eyes before they met his gaze again.

Feyd smirked. The side curl reached a menacing height. "Let me reacquaint you with your past."

The Great Hall was prepared. The meal was cleaned up and shoved away. More room was given for the open floor just beneath the seat of the throne.

Feyd lifted my hand in his - like I'd seen other men in court do. He led up the steep steps to the single ruling seat. I waited for him to take his seat but instead he sat me in his place.

"My lady." My fingers were brought up to his lips already turned the color they would be the rest of evening: red. "The best seat is yours."

Trial by combat was a large ordeal at the Baron's castle. I remember being so cold the entire time. It was in freezing stands outside, with metal seats and cold stone walls. I looked on as people were brought to their judgement at the Baron's bulbous feet. Every shred of humanity was absent from the show. The Baron ensured it.

He dealt out punishment as a survival of the fittest. He'd pit criminals against one another with the hope of their freedom. It was a rouse to garner entertainment.

There were never survivors.

After a series of rounds of best criminal killing another to advance was a final test: Feyd.

He met the match of every criminal that survived their trials. Then, he was the ticket to freedom. If they could surmount him, and the throne, they would be released back to their lives.

It used to be all he would train for. His purpose in life, as his uncle's executioner.

I hated to sit there and know that it could have been me met with a death so quick. I envied everyone Feyd dueled in the arena and wished it would be me one day that met the end of his obligation instead.

The Great Hall was now his arena.

Prickles of excitement coursed through his body. It thickened his chest as he boasted the prowess, in case any forgot. His fighting gear was brought. His staff dressed him in the leathers he wore. A small gadget was clipped to his waistband. A shield.

There were servants that rushed to adjust my skirts. They fanned it out.

Feyd looked up at me. Dark teeth showed a crude smile.

The prisoners were marched in a line through the large doors. The thick metal cuffs engulfed their whole hand.

Excited murmuring grew through the nobles. It reminded me of their pathetic mewing when the Baron did similar acts in his court. It thrilled their wiles while keeping their own hands free of guilt.

Feyd was the one who killed everyone. His hands bloodier by the minute, to amuse the delights of a demented crowd.

I again drank from my glass. "Another," I demanded before the servant could refill it. "More, more."

The sounds of the Great Hall rose suddenly. The chirping of Evgeniya Kiseleva convinced me to ignore it for a while.

My morbid envy had to peek through. And the instant drench of cold sensation covered my body.

There was a small boy - about seven years old - that stood in chains. The cuffs were too large for his small hands, so he'd been chained around the neck with his hands a short distance away from his throat.

That explained Evgeniya's excitement.

The little boy held a frown. There were bald spots in his dark curly hair. I wondered if he'd had braids that were ripped from his scalp.

Feyd stopped short. "What's this?"

None answered.

His patience grew thin. He turned to the nearest solider. "What's this?" He pointed at the child.

"A criminal, na-Baron."

"What is his crime?" Feyd demanded.

"Stealing," was the answer.

"Stealing." Feyd rasped. "Stealing what."

"Food."

Now the soldier was nervous. He shifted as if he looked around for support from the others.

None intervened.

He started to plead his case. "Commander Rabban ordered all crimes be punishable. No age excused. A thief will always be a thief."

Feyd demanded the boy be released. The big eyes of that boy stared up at Feyd, paralyzed, watering, as his little knees wobbled. The muscles of his body were nonexistent. Bones were visible through the boy's body.

A flicker coursed through Feyd. He could not face that boy. He looked across the Great Hall at me, instead of the child.

"Go." He told the child. To his men, he said something else. "Children are but pawns for others to use. Do not arrest a single child on this planet or you'll take their place in the dungeons."

Confusion was through the nobility. It was not a popular choice.

Feyd, still, remained confident in his decision. He ignored the displeasure.

The trials continued. Only, they were his own version.

The crimes were read aloud. Many were trivial crimes: theft, assault. One man was caught sabotaging a water collection, which here on Arrakis was an egregious crime. Feyd dealt quick sentences. They met him a duel, but it was over with ease. He sliced their necks, thighs or wrists.

Blood soon turned the floor sticky. Muddled colors of bright red, burgundy, to thick black coated the Great Hall.

"Kidnapping, assault, rape," read the charges. "Three counts."

The charges perked Feyd's attitude. His eyes narrowed. "Ah. You like to take things that aren't yours, do you? Well I may have let a child go, but you. You will fight for your life."

A sword was thrown onto the floor. It turned red from all the thick blood.

The man did not fear Feyd. He said nothing as he picked up the blade.

Feyd was not the bigger man either. Their bodies were equal sized.

My hand gripped the arms of the throne seat when the rapist launched himself at Feyd. He swung his sword to fight the man back away. The resounding connection of their blades jolted my calm. I shook below my skin. It was not the same. This criminal had some skill. He went aggressive with his attacks.

Feyd kept his concentration in narrow focus. The floor where he stood was free of slippery puddles, but as they moved in their duel, he stepped into the blood. One of his own advances was overshot by the flood of past kills. The man angled the blade against Feyd's shift. He forced Feyd onto his back.

Red splattered over his white flesh.

Sharp thuds splintered my chest. Each beat of my heart became labored.

I felt it now. As Feyd's life was not ensured, I did feel a flicker of attachment to him.

I reeled at that revelation as he was lunged at by the criminal, only narrowly missed by the tip of the sword.

Feyd's foot landed square in the rapist's chest. It sent the man onto his back.

The men recovered at the same time. Their feet moved in careful steps around a circle before the pace was too slow. Feyd attacked fast. He used a combination of his fists, legs and swords to render the man confused.

Two slices cut the sides of the man's face open. The white tendons of his jaw were bright through the warm spill of blood. Pink muscles were visible as he flexed his mouth.

Feyd then waited. His laughter, echoed throughout the large room. He baited the man into anger. It gave all control over to the young heir.

He used it against the rapist. It weaponized his own emotion against him as Feyd knew how to use it. A savage stab cut a lung in half through the ribs it cracked and popped, the shlunk of tissue as the blade slid through.

The criminal staggered a step back. His breath struggled. The crackling painful groans from inside his body.

Feyd smirked as he yanked the sword out. A waterfall of bodily fluid wept from the man's body.

Now, he fell to his knees. Each breath a more painful struggle than the last.

The man, still breathing and bleeding, was brought to the base of the throne and sat there as an offering for…me?

Feyd stood there looking restored to his normal self, and rather proud of his show. "I dedicate my kill to my lady Mintha. May many bodies have her bloody claim upon them."

The guests all raised their glasses in salute.

I was offended by his dedication. I did not want bodies with my name on them at all. But I still battled with the knowledge that I was glad - genuinely- that Feyd was not injured during his performance.

An image of me flying down those steps and into his arms to kiss him all over rushed through my thoughts.

It stayed there for the rest of the night, too.

The sight of him was so different that I couldn't look away. I was in awe that the monster was no longer an offense against me.

Feyd was fawned over. The nobles rushed to present their wagging tongues to his ego. He adored their attention.

Attention I never gave him.

I denied him any semblance of care at all. It was a wonder, now that I considered my position, why he kept me around when I denied the thing he wanted the most.

Embolded by the wine – stupid Harkonnen wine was too strong – I moved through the crowd of admirers to take his side. The blood all splattered on his person was a worry I did not have. My arm looped within his, stopping his speech mid-sentence to gawk.

He did regain his momentum, although I did catch him staring at me more than once.

When finally, the time came to retire, Feyd clamped his arm close to his body, locking my arm with it. I struggled to keep up with his pace. The weight of my dress held me back.

He stopped to assist but became too irritated with it. A knife cut the back end of my dress from the train. It was left along the floor.

"Thank you. It was so heavy." I blurted.

Feyd then scooped me into his arms in one swift motion. He carried me to his quarters. I readied to be set down and open the doors, only his body tensed beneath me.

He kicked the doors open with a loud shudder through the halls.

My grip against his chest tightened.

Maybe I'd made him angry.

He carried me through the entrance of his chambers. The oversized sitting room with an attached dining room, den, bathing room and bedroom was all his domain - lackluster and haunting.

But it was not him.

There were pieces of him that were inhuman, yes, but were not a total monstrosity either. The complicated middle ground of another's wars, purposes, rage. I knew there were scars he did hide. Ones that were burned into the fabric of his being.

They were not from victories.

Feyd was the animal of both worlds; destined to belong to neither but blend just enough to see his differences.

There was no place to call home in-between. For that, he lived in a limbo of nothingness and privilege. I doubted he was ignorant to that truth.

If he became an animal, they did not like - a monster no longer - they'd turn on him.

"You fought well, na-Baron." The motion of my throat felt strange; how genuine it sounded from my own lips. She was not I. "It was honorable you spared that child."

It went against every instinct in my body, but I kissed his cheek.

A breath left his mouth slow. His eyes downturned.

I'd kept my face near his. I don't know why.

Well, yes I did.

So did Feyd.

He leaned into me, kissing me with a whisper of power. It was so purposeful, so slow. We kissed in longer deeper moments. I felt the want of him grow inside me.

Not as lust.

But desire.

I desired him to belong to the nothingness with me. It was not a lonely place, with the two of us there to reside in our skins together.

My fingers slipped beneath his shirt as we kissed. I caressed the defined muscles of his chest. The hardness was like metal, smooth and unyielding. I ran the deep rivers of his physique with the light brush of my fingertips. Feyd, too, focused on the touch. His kiss was slow as if he waited. Focused on. What my hand intended to do.

I now understood why he liked to watch my face: it was thrilling to see the way it moved him.

A shudder rasped from his lungs.

"May I?" My fingers toyed at the top button of his shirt.

He shuttered his eyes before finding mine with the feral intensity that slithered to the hot depths of my desire and awakened its fire. "Rip it apart."

I swallowed a smile as I loosened the button from its seat. "Where is the point in that, na-Baron? Things last longer when you use gentle hands."

He leaned forward for yet another slow tender kiss. Our mouths parted but we restrained the tongues into a polite dance.

When he pulled away from my lips, he put his forehead against mine. "I am not a gentle man."

My pulse quickened harder in my throat. "I know."

Yet. Despite his claims, I was lowered to the floor with care. He cradled me. My toes tenderly took the weight of me, leaving me still closer to his mouth. The temptation, there, to taste him once more. Taste his adoration for me all over again and savor its sweetness for a time when it was bittered, bored of me.

My fingers moved down the front seam of his shirt with his eyes an audience to my actions. It was like he absorbed every detail of it. He savored the moment. Not even a breath disrupted it.

I slid the fabric off his shoulders. The shirt fell to the floor.

My eyes gazed at the sight of his body with a vigor to know it more than just an attachment to feel something. I wanted to know it as him. A person I chose, adored, and wanted to know that way.

"There," I whispered, uncertain of what I should say next.

"Is that better for you, my lady?"

Oh. That felt so wonderful.

Floods of heat surfaced through my body. It bubbled and blistered with a stronger focus upon my sensitive areas than ever before. I was alive with desire. It was hot and writhing to be released, almost brimming on its own.

"It is, na-Baron." I nodded. "Now..."

I couldn't find the strength to say it aloud. It went against years of self-programming. I knew what I wanted him to do. It burned me so deeply that I contemplated doing it myself. His cock, his tongue, the sharp intake of breath he had just before he came inside me. Those images electrified my nerves to the point of pain.

I wanted him so bad; I'd endure the pain.

Perhaps that was what he adored about the pain. The anticipation of it, the relief of its final swipe through.

Feyd deserved my courage. He did things without thinking of the danger.

I should adapt that mantra: fuck it, it'll be fine.

It served him well.

He waited for me to speak. There was no show he wished to fill the silence before I said what I started.

I gulped. "Now, can you do mine?"

My back turned. The long gown was secured with a series of metal hooks that looped together.

He took the time to unlatch each from their eye. It was agony, slow and gentle against my back. How much I missed his touch when he pulled at the fabric, only brushing his knuckles against my spine in passing.

Relief did come. It happened all at once. The weight of the dress slid down from my chest. A deep breath filled my lungs with burning fury.

I held the bustier top with my arms to hide my nakedness.

Two hands came from behind. They moved against my bare flesh. Lips, then, tender and sweet suckled at my neck.

It answered my body's screams just right. He pulled at the flesh with his lips sucking and snapping them. A tongue emerged to wiggle along sensitive areas. Chills traversed my spine.

Feyd used the distraction of his mouth to slip the dress onto the floor.

All that remained on me was a pair of not so ridiculous shoes.

"You looked like you belonged on that throne, Mintha." He murmured against my ear, nuzzling the lobe to toy with me. His hands cupped my breasts. My nipples were rolled within his fingers. "An Empress you could be, my sweet dear. I imagined slipping that dress up to your waist and bouncing you on my lap like a lady like you deserves."

A short breath expelled from my mouth. Pleasure bottled within my breasts as he teased them. I was trying to retain a sense of dignity as a lady, not the volcano of desire I'd become.

It was too difficult when he knew how to read my body so well.

"Then I get to smell you all day. Everywhere you walk, I drip out of you. The taste of your pussy soured by me. Only mine." He snarled and nipped at the nape of my neck. I gasped in sweet delight. "I only like you out of my sight when I know my cum has swollen your pussy. You get so full and sensitive. It is hard for you just to wear a dress as it caresses you, isn't it?"

Feyd slipped a finger inside. I could have screamed. The length of it brushed past my g-spot. My legs trembled.

"Oh, sweetness. You are ready."

I nodded. Yes. I was ready to have this moment and plenty after.